


The Thing About Cliques

by archangelwithashotgun



Series: Sabriel School!Verse [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, And so are Dick and Gordon and Nick, Fluff and Angst, Football, Human Gabriel, Implied Slash, M/M, Pre-Slash, Protective Sam Winchester, Zachariah Being a Dick, tw: bullying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-29
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-29 22:57:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6397378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archangelwithashotgun/pseuds/archangelwithashotgun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by tricky_archangel’s prompt: Gabe is a little pudgy from all the candy he eats and gets bullied for it. Sam as captain of the football team steps in and stops Gabe form getting beaten up. Sam takes him into the school bathroom and cleans him up.</p>
<p>Yeah, he supposed he should have known that four against one weren’t good odds if he wanted to use sarcasm to escape this situation without getting the shit beaten out of him. But Gabriel never was one for choosing good odds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Thing About Cliques

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by tricky_archangel’s prompt: Gabe is a little pudgy from all the candy he eats and gets bullied for it. Sam as captain of the football team steps in and stops Gabe form getting beaten up. Sam takes him into the school bathroom and cleans him up.
> 
> I ran a bit of cross country one summer for my school. Love running, hated the training, so I sympathize strongly with Gabriel here. Hope you all enjoy!!

Gabriel really shouldn’t have been surprised, if he were completely honest with himself.

It was mandatory for all Truman High students to join one of the school’s athletic teams for at least one season, save for a select group of exceptions. So when it came time for Gabriel to choose during his senior year, having successfully avoided athletics for his first three years, he quickly scanned the list and selected cross country, thinking it to be the easiest. After all, how hard can running be?

As it turns out, very hard. _Impossibly_ hard.

He knew cross country was about the long distance, but had failed to understand that it was long distances in a set goal. He was made to run in the scalding late summer heat, up and down sharp inclines, around sharp corners, all while feeling dragged down by sweat-drenched clothes, burning calves and hamstrings, and flaring stitches in his sides and lungs and throat.

It was hell.

And it didn’t help matters that his love for candy and junk food had caused him to gain some weight. Not _too_ much. Well, there _was_ a noticeable amount of pudge to his figure that hadn’t quite been there before, but still.

Regardless, Gabriel supposed it couldn’t hurt to try and shed some of that weight. So he took to exercising outside of practice.

Really, he _shouldn’t_ have been surprised.

The football players were ruthless even to the most beautiful of people, their loud and obnoxious slander carrying over the rumbling chatter of the cafeteria, their guffaws that reminded Gabriel of a mule echoing throughout the hall, their horrid catcalls and punishing words chasing after pitiful victims.

It was only to be expected that they go after the chubby kid running extra laps around the field perimeter.

He had just finished his second lap around, marking one-and-a-half extra miles added on to the day’s typical four, and he jogged to a halt, hands nearly slipping down his knees as he struggled to not keel over, panting heavily and fighting against the fierce heat pounding at his face and neck.

“Aw, look at this, guys! Novak’s calling it quits after one _pathetic_ mile!”

Gabriel swallowed down his disdaining groan at the sound of Gordon Walker’s booming voice. Straightening up, ignoring his painfully overexerted legs and torn throat, he turned to face the approaching players. Flanking Gordon were Nick Munroe, Dick Roman, and Zack Milton. Arguably the worst personalities on the football team, and they were all walking towards him.

Great.

Gabriel stared at them, shoulders heaving with panting breaths. Zack was the first to stop within short distance of him, cocking his head lightly to the side.

“I’m surprised there hasn’t been an earthquake yet! Seems like someone’s regretting seconds at the dinner table, huh? Or it is thirds, Novak?”

“Oh, you know me, Milton,” Gabriel bit out, narrowing his eyes and smirking nastily. “I’ve never been able to turn down your momma’s goodies.”

Instantly, Zack’s faux superior demeanor twisted into a stony glare, his electric blue eyes flashing dangerously at Gabriel’s sarcastic quip. Gabriel refused to back down, matching Zack’s scowl with one of equal ferocity, though tinted prominently with smugness.

“I suggest you watch your mouth, Novak,” Dick snapped. “Lord knows you can hardly control it anywhere else.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Gabriel shrugged. “Like with your sister when I go down on her. There’s your earthquake.”

Yeah, he supposed he should have known that four against one weren’t good odds if he wanted to use sarcasm to escape this situation without getting the shit beaten out of him.

But Gabriel never was one for choosing good odds.

He barely saw the fist flying toward his face before it cracked against his left cheekbone, his eye exploding in dizzying agony as he was sent sprawling to the ground. Already out of breath, he sucked in a harsh inhale as he landed, and even that was immediately forced out of him as a cleat struck him clean in the stomach.

Breathless, wheezing, Gabriel couldn’t find the strength or opportunity to curl up into himself for protection, writhing in petrified agony as four sets of fists and feet struck him with hateful vengeance. The sharp point of a cleat cut across his right cheek, the force of the blow snapping his head off to the side with a gasp. Past the bruising hits, Gabriel could feel the warm stream of blood trickling down his face, cascading from his nostrils as well.

“ _Hey_!”

And suddenly the onslaught was miraculously over, and Gabriel heard a loud thud followed quickly by a grunt. Wincing around a swollen eye, Gabriel blinked dazedly at his savior, and felt his heartrate quicken as he caught sight of Sam Winchester, captain of the football team, wrestling Zack on the ground. Dick and Nick had fled the scene, and Gordon was off to the side now, glaring down between Sam and Gabriel with equal amount of scorn.

“ _Enough_!” Sam roared, slamming his palms down on Zack’s biceps, binding the other boy from moving. “What the fuck is _wrong_ with you?! _Leave him alone_!”

Zack glared furiously up at the captain, heaving with angry breaths, but refrained from further struggle.

Sam snapped his head up toward where Gordon was standing. “You two are going to get back to the field. _Now_. And I _might_ help you all get a more lenient punishment from coach. You can’t afford to get into any more trouble, Walker. Same goes for you, Milton.”

Practically trembling with rage, Gordon stiffly turned and began walking toward the practice field. With one last warning look, Sam released Milton from his grip, standing without offering a hand up. For a moment as Milton stood, it looked as though he was going to disregard Sam’s orders, eyes flitting over to where Gabriel lay bleeding and panting on the ground. But then he too spun around and stalked toward the field, following Gordon at a quicker pace.

The threat now gone, Gabriel pinched his eyes shut tight as he moved to sit up. His abdomen flared up with sharp pain, fresh bruises and cuts stinging with the lightest movement. He grunted, pressing a hand to the wound on his face, hissing with the contact.

“Jesus Christ,” Sam whispered above him, and suddenly Sam was crouched in front of Gabriel, eyes wide as he examined the damage.

Gabriel snorted. “Nope. Just Gabriel, thanks.”

Sam didn’t respond to the joke, hand outstretched as if wanting to touch Gabriel’s face but twitching with hesitance. For a brief moment, he looked completely lost as to what to do; his hazel eyes flickered back and forth between Gabriel’s own, shining with a frantic type of sorrow as he took in the entirety of Gabriel’s injuries. Gabriel inhaled sharply as another pulse of agony throbbed from his stomach.

“Get back to practice, Sam, I’ll be fine,” Gabriel muttered, palming the throbbing wound.

That statement alone seemed enough to rouse Sam from his stupor, and his face set in determination as he shook his head.

“C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up,” Sam said, maneuvering around in his crouched position to place one of Gabriel’s arms around his shoulders. Gabriel hardly made a protest, allowing Sam to lift him into an upright position and carefully lead him toward the main school building. He kept a hand firmly pressed against his right side and limped alongside Sam.

To Gabriel’s surprise, Sam didn’t immediately lead him to the nurse’s office, but rather to the boys’ bathroom on the first floor. It was a remotely private one, located in the science wing and fitted with only three stalls and a large ledge by the window sill. Sam directed Gabriel toward the ledge and had him sit on it, and once Gabriel was situated he quickly walked over to the sink. Running the tap water, Sam ripped out a few cloth towels from the dispenser and soaked them lightly in the warm water.

Sitting by the window, Gabriel stared at Sam with turmoil curling in his gut. Questions were racing through his mind, each wanting to be answered with similar urgency. He had no idea of Sam’s motives; as far as he knew, Sam was one of the jocks, captain of the biggest batch of douchebags to ever roam the halls of Truman High. He wasn’t supposed to be like this. He wasn’t supposed to be nice.

But he was. Gabriel had him in enough classes to know that Sam held a high level of intelligence, which already differentiated him from the rest of the team by quite a large margin. And, try as he might, Gabriel could not think of a single encounter with the other boy where he wasn’t pleasant, even for something as small as retrieving one of Gabriel’s pencils that fell on the ground.

He was still lost in thought when Sam approached him and gently dabbed the drenched towels to his cheek without warning. Gabriel flinched and hissed at the sting of pain that flashed through his face.

“Sorry, sorry,” Sam murmured, trying again just as softly. “I just want to get some of this… some of this blood off of you before I take you to the nurse.”

“I don’t need to go to the nurse,” Gabriel objected, his words lightly muffled as he struggled not to move his face too much and interrupt Sam’s careful ministrations. “I’m fine.”

Sam huffed, tossing the reddened cloth in the trash bin and going for a new one. “You look like a Thriller reject, Gabriel. And that’s just from your face.”

“Aw. Your words flatter me, darlin’,” Gabriel said with a smirk and a wink.

Well, as best a wink as he could do with a swollen eye.

Sam chuckled, coming back with a fresh towel. He gently wiped at Gabriel’s cheek, lips pursing apologetically as Gabriel winced. “Regardless, I still gotta take you to the nurse. She can help patch you up a lot better that I can.”

“Hm, you seem to be doing a great job despite the lack of nursing training, Samsquatch,” Gabriel joked, prompting another grin from Sam. Gradually, though, Gabriel’s carefree demeanor faltered, and he sighed solemnly. “You should get back to practice, Sam. Forget about me, I’ll be alright.”

“Yeah, well,” Sam muttered, dropping the hand cleaning Gabriel’s face as he stared openly at him. “They’ll be fine without me for one practice.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Sam, just go. Seriously. I’m not worth getting in trouble with your coach.”

“I can afford a tongue lashing and an extra few laps around the track,” Sam shrugged.

“Your team might get pissed at you.”

“Don’t care. They’re my team, not my friends.”

Gabriel let his shoulders sag and his hands collapse on his knees helplessly. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you even _care_?” Gabriel asked, brows pinching together. “You’re a nice guy, Sam, I know that. But regardless of the fact that I take any and every opportunity to spite them, those guys today were kinda right.”

Sam’s jaw went slack in shock. “You’re – You’re actually defending what they _did_ to you?”

“Not today,” Gabriel corrected. “God knows I’m not defending _that_. But just… in general. You guys at the top of the food chain. The school’s golden boys. The head honchos. No need to be worrying about little ol’ me. I don’t fit in in your kind of groups here. There’s no need or reason for you to be here, so… you can go.”

There was a small silence in which Sam stared at Gabriel, and Gabriel stared right back at Sam. The captain of the football team and the school’s sarcastic prankster, hazel and gold. A wave of angry heat radiated from Sam’s eyes, fixing Gabriel with a scandalized glare, as if extremely offended but at the same time terribly bewildered by Gabriel’s words. Gabriel just steadily maintained his lock on Sam’s expression, waiting for the inevitability of Sam standing and walking out of the bathroom.

“No.”

Gabriel blinked, frowning.

Sam shook his head, replacing his hand carrying the towel on Gabriel’s wound. He briefly looked away from Gabriel’s gaze, focusing on palpating around the tender cut. “You’re an absolute moron.”

“… Thanks.”

Sam blew out an exasperated breath, a sad smile gracing his face. “I know that we hardly know each other, and that we don’t really talk outside of class. But I was hoping that you understood that I don’t follow petty regulations that say stupid things like football players can’t hang out with anyone outside their social cliques.”

Gabriel was silent, no longer flinching away from the wet towel even as it moved to rub off the dried blood that smudged Gabriel’s chin, his fingers curling around Gabriel’s jaw.

“So,” Sam said, meeting his eyes once more. “What we’re going to do is go to the nurse’s office, get you checked out, and then I’ll take you home after I report Walker, Milton, Munroe, and Roman to the coach.”

“But you—“

“I said I _might_ help them get leniency,” Sam reminded him gently. “Then tomorrow… I’m going to sit with you at lunch, and you’re not going to worry about where we stand socially. You’re not going to worry about any of that anymore. Got it?”

All Gabriel could do was nod his assent, for once in his life without witty remark and entirely speechless.

And despite the fact that he was already highly baffled and startled from this ordeal, it was nothing compared to what he felt when suddenly Sam’s thumb was caressing his bottom lip in a move that surely wasn’t to wipe away blood or grime from the fight. Gabriel closed his eyes.

“Okay,” he muttered.

“Good.” And Sam’s hand was gone from his face and Gabriel reopened his eyes. Sam inclined his head toward the door with an obvious beckoning. “C’mon.”

Gabriel leapt down from the ledge, restraining a gasp at the jostle to his side, and Sam instantly placed a supportive arm around his shoulders. Gabriel fought back the urge to shrug him off, taking the half-embrace for what it was, and instead smiled gratefully up at Sam. Sam returned the grin with a nod, and, tossing the bloodied towel in the trash bin, he led Gabriel out of the bathroom.


End file.
